


Skills Without Context

by bustybarnes



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Also Tony & Pepper are still a thing because I want them to be, But things are different so beware, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-30 09:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10160456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bustybarnes/pseuds/bustybarnes
Summary: There are some skills that Bucky knows how and why he acquired and has used.  Shooting, knife skills, cleaning weapons...those are skills that an assassin would have.  Then, one day, Bucky started being able to do...other stuff.OR the fic where Bucky starts randomly remembering how to do things and uses those skills to help him cope with his PTSD.





	1. How It Started

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanology](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanology/gifts).



> This fic is ENTIRELY dedicated to [shanology](http://shanology.tumblr.com) because she reblogged the post I got the prompt from and wanted a 50k word fic based on it. I don't know if it's gonna make it to 50k but, well, nothing ventured nothing gained. :)
> 
> Not beta'd so if you find an error, please point it out but be nice about it? This is only my 3rd Stucky fic so I'm still all nervous about writing. :)

There are some skills that Bucky knows how and why he acquired and has used. Shooting, knife skills, cleaning weapons...those are skills that an assassin would have. Then, one day, Bucky started being able to do...other stuff.

At first it was small stuff like being able to cook. Like serious culinary skills. Steve just smiled and Bucky mumbled something about watching a lot of some cooking channel.

“I think it’s called The Food Network.” And Steve smiled because that’s what he does whenever Bucky does something quasi-normal. But this doesn’t feel normal to Bucky. Actually, it feels too normal. He shouldn’t know normal things. Why does he know this? He caught Steve watching him so he picked up one of the small knives just to have something to fiddle with it and that feels like something he should know and it feels comfortable and comforting. That is something he should know.

He can’t eat the dinner he’s made for them. Steve was all grins and making inane conversation while Bucky just pushed his food around his plate. He kept looking back towards the kitchen trying to figure out why he can cook and where he learned all those skills...the ones that allowed him to create existing side by side the ones that pushed him to destroy.

They’re cleaning up when he can see that Steve has noticed that he’s hiding something but is doing his best to give him space. So Steve leaned against one counter and let Bucky load the dishwasher and waited for the inevitable. Bucky just sighed.

“It wasn’t Food Network. Where I learned to cook...it wasn’t Food Network.” He answered Steve’s confused look. “I...I have no idea where that came from. I just knew how to as soon as I stepped into the kitchen and saw the stuff on the counter.” He knew he was whispering and he had his arms crossed over his chest hugging himself. He was leaning back against the dishwasher and Steve was mirroring his posture across the kitchen against the refrigerator. “I don’t know if it was something about the knives or what but…”

“Well it certainly was a surprise..” Bucky looked up. “You never were much for cooking...before. You always left that to me. Although neither of us were very good at it. After we were out on our own...well, let’s just say we stuck to the precious few things that we knew we could cook without completely screwing up.”

Images flashed through Bucky’s mind...some of them were of Steve, smaller and practically always on the brink of one illness or another. But there were others that made no sense...knives dancing but it wasn’t blood that coated the blades but things Bucky couldn’t identify so, instead of thinking about it, he did what he was used to doing when strange memories pushed through. He headed out to the small patio to feel the breeze against his face.

Steve let him have his space and finishing cleaning up. There were so many questions he wanted to ask. What was going through Bucky’s mind when he was cooking? Did anything else come back? Were there any other memories or was it just muscle memory? But Steve knew better than to push. So he did what he was good at when tensions ran high. He grabbed his sketchbook and drew whatever came into his head. It was, invariably, Bucky but this time it was from earlier from when he was all business in the kitchen, slicing the vegetables and tossing them around like a master chef.

That night, Bucky tossed and turned. He woke up with a start and immediately looked over to see if he’d woken up Steve, who was softly snoring beside him still. Barnes slowly moved to extricate himself from the bed, checking with every movement to see if the other super soldier was still asleep and, seeing that he hadn’t woken him up, continued towards the outer part of their apartment. Bucky had never been as glad that they’d decided to keep an apartment separate from the Tower as he did tonight since he knew, if they’d been in the Tower, Tony’s ever present AI would’ve alerted somebody in Medical as to an aberration in the former Soviet assassin’s sleep pattern. The brainwashing had been cleared out but Bucky still was dealing what had to be the world’s worst case of PTSD and had therapy three times a week.

He looked around and realized he’d ended up back in the kitchen. What the fuck? His hands grabbed various utensils and he began to move, once again, around the kitchen like he was born to do it. His mind zoned out and he ran on instinct until he was done and whatever he was making was in the oven.

“What smells so good?” Steve mumbled, shuffling out of the bedroom right about the time Bucky put on a pot of coffee. Under the guise of checking on the cooking progress, Barnes looked into the oven to see what he’d managed to cook earlier.

“Chocolate cake,” there was a note of glee to his voice and, glancing over to the far side of the oven, what he saw made his grin that much bigger. “With homemade chocolate frosting.” He ran his finger through the icing and raised it up to his boyfriend’s lips with a smirk. “Whatcha waiting for, Stevie? It ain’t gonna lick itself…” He added a salacious eyebrow waggle for good measure.

Steve, never one to be outdone, simply leaned up and swallowed Bucky’s index finger down to his last knuckle and ran his tongue all over it, sucking every molecule of chocolate from the digit and then some, until Bucky was ready to say to hell with the cake and drag Steve back to bed...along with the chocolate frosting.

Until the damned timer went off letting them know the cake was done.

After it was cool enough to be frosted (and wasn’t that torture to leave the frosting alone so that there was enough left to actually frost the damned thing), they sat eating homemade chocolate cake for breakfast and drinking coffee.

“I had to go undercover as a sous chef to get to this diplomat...no idea when or where but I remember they had to train me on how to cook because I was gonna have to actually cook in this hotel kitchen because that’s how the guy came in and out all the time. And then on his way out…” And Bucky mimicked the signal for firing a gun at his own head. “But the bad thing is that I got really fucking good at this shit and the guys in the kitchen couldn’t believe I’d never gone to culinary school so we’d have these stupid fucking vegetable chopping contests every day and of course I’d win. Hell, I even got promoted to dessert chef...hence the delectable chocolate cake & icing you’re obscenely licking off that goddamned fork…” He refused to look at Steve until the very end because he was afraid to see the look in his eyes. Bucky knew Steve had forgiven him for all the things he did as The Soldier but sometimes, even though he tried to hide it, the tiniest sliver of pity was there in those beautiful blue eyes and it sliced Bucky worse than anything HYDRA ever did to him.

“I was wondering how bad the nightmare was when you snuck out here instead of waking me up.” Steve just looked back out the window. He knew there was pity in his eyes and, even though he tried to chase it out, he couldn’t. All the Super Soldier Serum in the world couldn’t make him more than human and that human being hurt for all the atrocities done to an innocent boy from Brooklyn who never wanted to go to war to begin with.

So Bucky took over cooking gradually until it became apparent that he cooked when he came back from therapy sessions that were, what Steve would later learn, either over dinner or in the safety of their bedroom with limbs wrapped around each other and Bucky almost asleep and having to shake himself awake to keep telling Steve so he wouldn’t have to carry the weight into another day, hurt...almost physically. There was a time when the therapists classified Bucky as a self-harm risk, back before they moved out of the Tower. They’d had to confiscate all the knives and anything he could’ve remotely have used to hurt himself with. Thinking about it, the situation was almost laughable because Bucky had been trained to use anything around him to kill. One of his treating physicians suggested institutionalizing him.

That physician was replaced and rumor had it that either he’d had his license revoked or just disappeared.

But gradually, Steve realized that cooking had become Bucky’s way of dealing whenever his PTSD just became too much. So he just sat and watched the other man move expertly around the kitchen and listen to the stories that would pour out of him about the mission that had necessitated such skill to be implanted.

“I mean how can you be that fucking stupid as to confuse a cherry or whatever the fuck piece of fruit with a pepper that can practically melt the inside of your mouth?” Bucky was all smiles and a mile wide, million watt smile as they cleared off the table.

“The diplomat did?” He tried to cover the fact that he was completely lost in the story but he’d forgotten who he was dealing with.

The smile was replaced by a look of annoyance at Steve’s lame attempt of deflection. “Nice try. You didn’t hear anything I’ve said for the last, oh, ten minutes did you?”

He grabbed the brunet by the waist of his jeans and pulled him close. “If a junior chef has been to culinary school, they would know that a cherry is red or green in some cases but not bright orange.” He’d never been so glad that he’d been (naturally) given a retentive memory as he was as the scowl on Bucky’s face began to lift into a grin.

The days turned into weeks as they waited to see if anymore random skills would show up. But, two months later, cooking was all that Bucky could seemingly do.


	2. Dark, Dizzy Merry-Go-Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next time it happened, they were at the Tower for what had come to being referred to as “Family Night” by, well, mainly Tony but everybody tolerated it. Thor was there. Sam brought a friend from work and made it known that she was “seriously JUST a friend.” Clint and Tasha were tucked up together. The Twins and Vision were out on patrol with Rhodey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who can catch the reference I'm making with the title BEFORE you read the chapter wins my heart!

The next time it happened, they were at the Tower for what had come to being referred to as “Family Night” by, well, mainly Tony but everybody tolerated it. Thor was there. Sam brought a friend from work and made it known that she was “seriously JUST a friend.” Clint and Tasha were tucked up together. The Twins and Vision were out on patrol with Rhodey.

Tony and Pepper...Steve said they were an item but they didn’t act it and, honestly, Tony still treated Bucky with kid gloves so he kept his distance. Same with Bruce Banner, although Steve was close with the Hulk’s human alter-ego.

Family night generally involved pizza and copious amounts of beer...but tonight somebody brought liquour (Clint) and then someone (Tony) used it as an excuse to try a distilled spirit that he’d been brewing to see if it would have an effect on their resident super soldiers.

“Anthony Edward Stark! You’ve been brewing moonshine in the labs?!” Pepper tried not to laugh as she scolded the self-proclaimed genius billionaire playboy philanthropist turned just genius billionaire philanthropist.

“In the name of science, Pepper! These men haven’t been drunk or hell even had a buzz since 1943 and 1945,” Tony said laying his left hand on Steve’s shoulder and his right hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I mean come on, Pep...this is for America and apple pie and it’s already done so there’s no going back now…besides, Bruce helped and if you said no, you might make him angry. We wouldn’t want to make Brucey angry now would we?” The group looked up to see the other scientist had managed to slip out while Thor was regaling them with yet another story of the conquest of one of Asgard’s enemies. Tony and Pepper traded exasperated looks as Tony began to pass out large shot glasses and the scientist in question had reappeared, brew in tow, in time to make faces at Tony’s back and begin pouring.

“This smells like it died in the labs but you forgot to embalm it! What the hell is in here?” Tasha managed to sniff the concoction whereas when Clint tried, he ended up coughing.

“Eye of newt, hair of bat...you don’t need to know any of that. Drink!” Tony tossed his drink back and slammed the empty glass down onto the table in a triumphant gesture of ‘I did it!’, followed by Thor, Tasha, Clint, and Pepper, who were both gagging quite a bit, then Sam and his friend. Steve and Bucky looked at each other, shrugged, and tossed back the shots. Within mere moments, the others were starting to get slightly giggly, not Natasha though. She just decided to sit in Clint’s lap. Steve and Bucky didn’t feel anything.

“What?!”

“You know our metabolisms are ridiculously fast, Tony. Even if…” Steve tried to explain but everytime he tried, more shots appeared in front of them. Bucky didn’t mind. Even if the alcohol didn’t affect them, it was nice to share the camaraderie...not to mention the fun he could have at everybody’s expense.

At some point, Sam and his not-date left when she decided that Sam was adorable when they were tipsy and she wanted to renegotiate their “only friends and nothing else” status. Pepper and Tony had tried playing Mario Kart but Thor accidentally crushed the controller in his excitement at winning a game. Bruce had disappeared early on saying that drinking wasn’t his thing. Their current amusement was Natasha’s attempt to teach Clint the Tango, which had become an Olympic dance at some point, much to Bucky’s amusement.

“Clint, stop moving your hips like that...and don’t grab my ass.” Bucky watched Tasha put one of the archer’s hands back on her waist and the other in her hand where they were supposed to stay in position and nodded to Steve to hit stop on the remote control. “You know the steps. You learned them for that mission right after Budapest.”

“Christ that was a fun mission...why don’t we go back to that little beach and you can wear that…” 

“Clinton!” Natasha’s voice was sharp despite her obviously drunken state. “I wanna dance and you said you’d dance with me since nobody else knows how…”

Bucky was up and on his feet before he was conscious of his actions. He’d been watching Natasha try to teach Barton steps for the past 2 hours that, somehow, he just knew. Clint glared at him when he reached out for Tasha’s hand.

“I only wanna show you what she’s trying to teach you.” He motioned at Steve to start the music and, judging from the look on his face, he knew exactly what was going on. Again.

The music started and Bucky snapped Tasha into position before pivoting off into a flurry of movements that had everybody transfixed. They were pressed together shoulders to their hips, but their legs moved in a coordinated flurry. The duo broke apart in in a series of twists and turns, a dip here, a spin there, before Bucky pulled Natasha back to him, a searing gaze shared between them. They moved around the room never farther than an arm’s length apart, even in the spins. The latest spin had Natasha leaning heavily against Bucky, her hands cradling his head with him seemingly dragging her across the floor in a surprisingly erotic-looking move that ended with her trying to pull away but Bucky spinning her back to him and the dance ended with her on her back against his bent knee looking up at him. Their faces were barely an inch apart and Steve could see they were whispering to each other.

“Just like Buenos Aires…” Natasha kept her voice calm and quiet. This wasn’t meant for the rest of the group.

“What?” The comment caught him off guard. There were visions of a red dress whipping around him and snippets of conversations just out of his mental grasp. Bucky stood up and brought the smaller assassin with him. She motioned to the balcony just off the common room. He shot Steve a look because he could practically feel a barrage of ‘what’s going on?’ ‘are you okay?’ ‘what was that?’ coming from him.

“So...Buenos Aires?” Bucky asked as soon as the balcony door was closed behind him. There was a slight breeze blowing Natasha’s now shoulder length red hair...red hair whipping around him and the cigarette smoke hanging heavy in the air. Bucky shook his head.

“James…” Natasha’s hand on his arm was an anchor to the here and now as much as Steve’s was sometimes but he growled at being called James. “I don’t like calling you Bucky. You’ve always been James to me.” He could count on one hand the number of times her voice had been this soft.

“Please tell me, Talia. I can’t remember. I keep getting these flashes and I think they’re of you but I don’t know. They have to be because how else could we have just moved together so perfectly back there unless we’ve danced together before?” Bucky hated the desperate tone to his voice but not enough to fight to keep it out. This time was completely unlike with finding out he could cook.

“This has happened before. You’ve just known how to do things but not why at first.” 

A lesser man would wither under that gaze. Hell, lesser men had withered under that gaze but Bucky just leaned back and crossed his hands over his chest. “We were cooking dinner and I just knew how to dice vegetables. So I picked up a knife and went to it. After that, it was like I was on autopilot. I basically ran Steve out of the kitchen and made dinner for us. Couldn’t tell you what I made but, according to Steve, it was great. What I do remember was why I knew it. There was a diplomat in New York who went through this hotel kitchen every single time as an entrance and exit route. Never varied his routine. So I was put in with the kitchen staff as a sous chef. Don’t remember when or anything like that but I remember joking with the other cooks and how one of the cooks didn’t know the difference between this ridiculously hot pepper and a cherry and just popped the fucker in his mouth…” He laughed and was rewarded with a genuine Natasha laugh. Those were as rare as her concerned whispers.

“You can’t remember our dance because, well, I’m not sure. Buenos Aires was the mission I...it was the mission where Clint grabbed me. We weren’t on it together. You’d been sent out to bring me back or eliminate me.”

 

“You went rogue?”

“I started freelancing. And that was frowned upon. I was working out of a tango bar so that’s why they programmed the dancing I suppose. I was as surprised as anybody when you showed up. You told me why you were there during our dance and begged me to come back with you because you’d have to go through with the kill order otherwise.”

“Well obviously something happened because, according to everything you got for us, I never willingly let any target go. So were you the exception to that or?”

The smaller woman smirked at him. “No, smartass, I wasn’t the exception. Just as we finished our dance, there was a small explosion and the place went nuts. I managed to get away from you and Clint grabbed me. The rest, as they say, is history. I tried making discreet inquiries to find out what happened to you but it was years until I made the right contacts back home with the pull to get me that info and by then, nobody was trading info on the infamous Winter Soldier. The Soviet countries were in ruin. The Red Room was in shambles, thank God...and you really were a ghost.” Natasha moved closer to him, her hand finding his face again trying to sooth some phantom pain but he caught it before she made contact.

“Don’t. You did what you had to do to survive.”

“And what about you? I know what their methods were when your performance was less than satisfactory. And don’t even pull that ‘I don’t remember so it doesn’t bother me’ bullshit, James. Remember I had to deal with the shrinks, too. I had to pull myself out of a lifetime of programming…”

A lifetime...if only he’d only had a lifetime. But no…”I’ve had more than your lifetime, Natalia. I’ve had 2 of your lifetimes full of programming and brainwashing, mind wiping and having things put into and taken out of my brain...so yeah it bothers me but there’s fuck all you can do about it.” He turned, leaving Natasha and her good intentions on making up for past betrayals on the balcony behind him.

Steve was waiting patiently, trying to keep Clint distracted with showing him pictures of the new Nerf bows and crossbows on the display with JARVIS’’s help. Between the colorful toys and Clint’s extremely inebriated state, it didn’t take much to keep the archer’s attention off the balcony until Bucky came storming through the door. Between the palpable change in the mood as soon as Bucky came striding back through and Steve’s change in focus, Clint’s drunkenness seemed to evaporate as he was up and through the balcony doors in the time it took for Steve to follow Bucky out of the common room. 

Neither spoke on the way home but Steve couldn’t help but notice that Bucky was keeping time with the songs that drifted past them as they walked. His fingers would drum the beat on his leg or tap out the beat against each other. Steve couldn’t help but notice every little thing about Bucky. Like his shoulders were more hunched than they were before his dance with Natasha and he was clenching his jaw, probably grinding his teeth, which he only did when he was really frustrated. All these things Steve wanted to ask about but he knew he had to wait and let Bucky talk about them in his own time and if he wanted to.

They walked into the apartment and Bucky immediately plugged his iPod into the dock while Steve hung up his keys and dropped his phone on the counter. He wanted to ask a million questions, starting with…

“I can practically hear the gears of your brain going, Rogers, so ask before smoke starts comin’ outta your ears.” 

“So are we gonna talk about what happened back at the Tower or...?”

And there it was. The question he’d been expecting their entire walk back but Steve, in typical Steve Rogers fashion as of late, had bottled up. He thought over his talk with Natasha and what she’d told him. How did he even begin to explain that to Steve without Steve jumping to conclusions.

“What do you wanna know?” Bucky dropped onto the couch with a sigh and motioned for Steve to join him but he shook him off in favor of perching on the arm of the chair.

“What was all that with Nat and the dancing? Was it like the cooking thing?”

“Yeah. I just knew that I could dance so I did.”

“So why go talk to Nat about it? Why not come talk to me like before?” 

Why did he have to go there? There was no way to get out of this without Steve being so...Steve about this and jumping the gun on what he thought he knew before Bucky could explain. 

“Look if you don’t wanna talk to me that’s fine but you obviously have a past with her so if you’re planning on trying to rekindle something there, you two owe me and Clint a heads up.” Steve was fighting to keeping his voice steady and Bucky could tell.

“Jesus fuck, Stevie, it’s nothing like that. You know as much about my past with Natasha as I do. I just...I needed to know why I was able to dance with her like that and she told me. It was a mission that involved her. It was the mission Katniss grabbed her for SHIELD actually. I only remember snippets and she made an offhand comment about it. That’s all, Stevie.” He heaved himself off the couch and stepped into Steve’s personal space, sliding one leg between Steve’s so Steve would have to look up at him.

“You two looked like you were this side of fucking each other right there in front of all us…” Steve was wringing his hands, and purposefully keeping them off Bucky, which was irritating. The former assassin stepped back and went to where his iPod was plugged in and flipped through until he found the song he was looking for.

“C’mere…” He called to the blond before he hit play. When Steve didn’t answer, Bucky called again. “Steve, please come here. I wanna share something with you.” He heard Steve push away from the chair and felt him stop right behind him so he hit play on the iPod and turned around to face Steve.

“What’s all this?”

“This is you dancing with me. And before you say you can’t or that you never learned don’t worry about it. This is gonna be simple and just for us. Just follow my lead for once? Because I’m not really sure of what my feet are gonna do anyway. But trust me okay?”

And that’s where he had Steve because Steve had always trusted him, ever since they’d found him and started working to break through all the shit that had been done to him. There were few constants in the universe but one was that Steve Rogers would always trust Bucky Barnes.

Staticy music started to play as Bucky maneuvered their arms around each others’ waists, with Bucky’s hand higher on Steve’s back, and wrapped his hand around Steve’s, pulling them close. Suddenly Bing Crosby’s voice filled the apartment and Bucky pushed off gracefully. Steve never looked down at his own feet, trusting Bucky to lead them where they needed to go. Forward and back and to the side, they gracefully twisted around the apartment together as one.

“I lost the angel who gave me summer, the whole winter too. I lost the gladness that turned into sadness. When I lost you…” Bucky sang softly as they danced. He led them into a spin and back into the rhythm of forward, back, and to the side before repeating the steps again. But Steve’s eyes never left Bucky’s. Their hands ended up pressed in between them as the song ended and their steps became less formal as the song changed into some instrumental but the meaning was clear enough.

Steve opened his mouth to say something but Bucky just leaned up and pressed a closed-mouth kiss to stop him from saying anything. The dance from earlier and the talk with Natasha...that was just background noise. This was all that mattered. That Bucky was right where he wanted to be. And Steve finally found the right dance partner.

Another thing was added to their routine. But this one...this was different. Instead of getting up after nightmares and cooking, Bucky would quietly wake Steve up and pull him into the living room, turn on the stereo just loud enough for them to hear, and began to teach Steve whatever dance would fit the rhythm of the song playing. Mostly they stuck to waltzes and foxtrots but one night, it was Steve that picked the song and Bucky smiled when he realized Steve wanted to learn how to dance the Tango.

“You ready for this one?” Bucky smiled, suddenly feeling shy but knowing he wouldn’t deny Steve anything.

“I think you and I both need this.” Steve pressed himself against Bucky suggestively. 

“And what would this be?” Bucky breathed as Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and slid his hands down to grip his ass, wringing a moan from Bucky. Bucky tried to lean forward and capture Steve’s mouth but Steve ducked away.

“This is not dancing…”

“Well it could be if you keep up with that…”

Steve moved his hands into the almost correct position, holding his right hand up and his left at shoulder level to Bucky. Bucky couldn’t help the smile that broke out as he stepped back into Steve’s space, taking Steve’s right hand in his left and pulling him close with his left arm around his waist.

“So we’re gonna start with the American standard tango since it’s easier than the Argentine. Just follow my lead okay? You’re gonna take two slow steps back, right then left, followed by one quick step back with your right. Then step to the side with your left foot and bring your right foot to meet it okay?” Steve was staring at his feet intently. “Hey eyes up here and not at your feet. You’ll get messed up that way I promise.”

“Well atleast if I step on your toes and break one, you heal fast.”

“None of that. Now wait for the two count, just listen for it….one, two, three, four. One and go.” And Bucky pushed off gently steering Steve backwards, two slows steps forward, left and right, followed by a quick step left then bringing his right foot over. Steve missed a couple of steps but Bucky smiled at him like he was the best dancer in the world. They waited a few beats and tried again and again...Steve gaining more confidence with each pass and not recognizing that Bucky was steering them in circles to avoid their furniture.

“I can see where people say it’s a dance of passion...I mean not this,” Steve motioned around their living room. “But the closeness, the trust...it’s pretty erotic.”

“Wait until you learn the Argentine tango…”

They folded in Bucky teaching Steve all sorts of new dances into their routine. They became the talk of the town when, at a Stark charity benefit, they decided to show off the fact that Steve had finally learned the basics of the Argentine tango to the movers and shakers of New York. Needless to say they made waves but they still had their midnight dances around the living room when either of them had bad nightmares.

Between the cooking and the dancing, things seemed to calm down. They started having people over for home cooked dinners a la Bucky, which were invariably followed by moving the furniture out of the way for dancing. Things settled down and they found their new normal.


	3. It's Not A Drink, It's A Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey I’m going to meet Clint and Natasha at Starbucks...wanna come with?” Steve asked during a quiet period where the villains of the world seemed to be taking a vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if you know where the chapter title is from, you win. :)

“Hey I’m going to meet Clint and Natasha at Starbucks...wanna come with?” Steve asked during a quiet period where the villains of the world seemed to be taking a vacation.

“Ugh if you’re only going for the baked goods, I can make them better and we don’t have to leave the house.”  Bucky talked around one of the last blueberry muffins from muffin night without losing so much as a crumb.

“No I’m going to visit our friends, Bucky.  You’ve spoiled me for any other pastries.  Get dressed and come on.  It’s a beautiful day.”

It was a beautiful day and things had been not good but a lot better recently so Bucky decided to try and enjoy the sunshine and a happy, bouncy Steve beside him.  Not even Clint’s sarcasm could darken his mood.

“Aww you brought everyone’s favorite second best shot.”

“That would be best shot with a gun.  Dunno about a bow and arrow because really, who does that anymore?”  Which earned him the bird from Clint.

“Boys play nice.”  Natasha adjusted her sunglasses as Steve chuckled.

“I think this is them playing nice.”  Steve said to Natasha while Clint directed Bucky towards the counter.

“So what you wanna do is carefully look over the menu to figure out if you want…”

“An iced soy macchiato upside down with two pumps each of cinnamon dolce syrup and vanilla syrup.”  Bucky, whose own eyes never even went to the menu boards, felt three sets of eyes on him immediately.  “I have no idea where that came from.”

 “Uhoh…” Steve sighed.

 “Dude how in seven hells do you know about that?!  I don’t even know about that and I practically live here.”

 “Hey Clint it’s been a couple of days!” The cheerful barista called from behind the counter and Clint motioned as if to say ‘see what I mean’.

 “Is this like the cooking and dancing?” He heard Natasha whisper to Steve, which was obviously answered either with a nod yes or a shrug.

 “What else do you know about Starbucks that I don’t?”

 “Well I know that your go-to drink is probably an Americano because come on...you practically have it tattooed across your face.  You two feeling adventurous?”  He motioned at Steve and Natasha, who shrugged their agreement.

 “Oh this I gotta see…”

 He walked up to the barista, who was smiling brightly at Clint (and making Natasha growl quietly) and, without missing a beat, ordered his drink and when he could see she could keep up, went on to what he was ordering for Steve.  “Venti but fill to the first line with cream base, the second line with apple juice, two pumps of cinnamon dolce syrup, and two pumps of caramel syrup.” Bucky let her get all that typed in before starting on Natasha’s drink.  “Venti chai tea latte with...two pumps of strawberry syrup.  Oh and an Americano for this one.”

 The barista, amazingly unphased, chuckled.  “Okay I know the name on Clint’s drink but…”

 “In order Bucky, Steve, and Natalia…”

 “James…” Natasha hissed.

 “Oh sorry...Natasha.”  Bucky smiled and slid his debit card through to pay, laughing when he heard Natasha smack Clint pretty soundly for giggling (actually giggle) at Bucky calling her Natalia.

 “Sooo yeah how?”

 “It’s like the dancing thing isn’t it?  And the cooking?”

 “I guess but come on...why on fucking God’s green Earth would they’ve...taught,” Bucky made air quotes around taught, “me the Starbucks menu.”  Nobody answered...until Clint did.

 “A lot of up and coming tech people hang out in Starbucks so, while I doubt you were a barista,” which earned Clint the finger from Bucky, “you could’ve just been taught,” again with the air quotes, “the menu to make it sound like you were a regular patron to get close to someone to...y’know.”

 Just like before, images flashed through Bucky’s mind.  A 20-something year old guy hunched over a computer, keys constantly tapping under his fingers, followed by that same guy slumped to one side, eyes blank and the remnants of where he’d been foaming at the mouth probably from poison.  But, as soon as the image appeared, it was gone.  He looked up and his drink was in front of him and everyone else was marvelling over theirs.

 “Holy shit this tastes like apple pie.  Like someone liquified apple pie.”

 “Well I have a new favorite thing.  Who knew strawberry and chai went together…”

 They looked at Bucky, who hadn’t touched his drink.  He had no idea what it would taste like or if he would even like it and he could tell his friends were thinking the same thing.  He took a sip and had to stifle a moan of pleasure.  “God that’s good.  Wait I think I know what it’s called...a caramel snickerdoodle macchiato?  That sounds right.”

 “So we have something new to add to...things?”  Steve asked, straw getting in the way of his words.  Bucky just shrugged and took another drink.

 A few days later, Bucky had a rough therapy session.  His therapist wanted to talk about the memories that kept resurfacing and how he felt about them.  She never asked for details specifically but always with the ‘how do you feel when you remember”.  The answer was always the same.  He felt like a monster.  

 It didn’t help that, the night before, his dreams had been haunted by memories of Howard and Maria Stark’s death.  Howard’s confused “Sargeant Barnes” and Maria’s cries for her husband...Bucky hunched in on himself and headed for coffee, the most immediate coping mechanism he’d developed.

  ** _< I know I said to meet me at the Tower but today’s not a Good Day for Tony.  Pepper says he hasn’t been out of his workshop since yesterday.> _ **Bucky got the text from Steve while he was in line.

  **< Yeah...it’s Howard and Maria’s anniversary.  Had dreams about them all night.> ** He texted back.   **< Still meeting you at the Tower.  Bringing something to leave for Tin Man.>**

 Twenty minutes later, Bucky had his coffee frappucino and a treat specifically for Tony and Pepper, too.

 “James...you didn’t have to.  Besides, I’m not sure he’ll even get it while there’s still ice.”  Pepper was sitting just outside the workshop in casual dress, the stress of the past 24 hours written on her face.  He just shrugged and handed her the drink carrier.  

 “The Zen Refresher is for him and the Sunset Refresher is for you.  I figured you could both use the pick me up.”  Bucky couldn’t meet her gaze.  “Tell him...well, there’s nothing I can say to make things better so just tell him I hope he likes the drink.”  When he finally looked up at her, Pepper was smiling a sad smile.

 “Of course I will.  Thank you, from both of us.”

 About a week later, Bucky got a text from Tony out of the blue.

  _ <Why do you know my new favorite Starbucks drink that apparently nobody else knows?! _ _Also...you know...thanks.  For bringing Pepper something.  That meant a lot.  To her I mean. >_

He smiled.   **< Long story but I’ll give you the recipe next week at family night.  And I’m glad the drinks were well received and enjoyed.>**

Things slowed down and no new skills made themselves known.  Steve started using the Starbucks scale to assess how bad a day was for Bucky.  No Starbucks first thing in the morning meant it was looking like a good day.  No Starbucks and no cooking practically from the moment Bucky walked in from therapy meant it wasn’t a bad session.  Starbucks but no cooking after therapy meant that it was a rough session that Bucky had worked through while waiting for and drinking his drink.  Starbucks first thing meant that the night before was rough, even if there had been cooking and/or dancing.  The worst days were when Bucky brought home Starbucks for himself and either one for Steve or mentioned dropping something off at the Tower or over at VA Sam worked at now and then started cooking.  Those were the days where Steve wouldn’t say anything, opting to play their dancing playlist and watch Bucky move around the kitchen effortlessly.


	4. Here Comes Treble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you have a system then, for dealing with negative emotions?” His therapist asked one session after he’d told her he’d figured out Steve’s ratings for his moods.
> 
> “I guess. I have things that I know make me feel better but sometimes even they aren’t enough.” Bucky was fidgeting, the beginnings of a panic attack at the back of his mind.

“So you have a system then, for dealing with negative emotions?” His therapist asked one session after he’d told her he’d figured out Steve’s ratings for his moods.

“I guess. I have things that I know make me feel better but sometimes even they aren’t enough.” Bucky was fidgeting, the beginnings of a panic attack at the back of his mind.

“And talking isn’t one of those things?”

Oh she was good.

“In a way. Talking to you helps me understand why I feel this way but, when I try to talk to Steve or Natasha or even Sam, I...can’t. Steve and Sam...it’s like all I can see is pity. Natasha...well, she’s not really a feelings kinda gal.”

She nodded and made more notes in her notebook, smiling momentarily. “Well, there are other types of therapy…”

Bucky shook his head no immediately. “I don’t wanna take pills.” He was insistent, flashes of being forcibly medicated flooding his mind. He closed his eyes and used every trick he’d learned from the doc and from Sam to stave off the panic.

“No no, Bucky. I’m not talking about medication. I meant something like art therapy. Have you tried drawing?”

A chuckle bubbled up from his chest. “Nah...Stevie’s the artist between the two of us. I’m lucky if I can draw stick figures. We took an art class back when we were kids but he was always better at it than I am. He just sees the beauty of things…”

“Well what about music therapy? You mentioned liking music…” Bucky shrugged noncommittally. “How about this...there’s a music and art therapy center I know of, a friend is the director. Let’s set up an appointment for both of us to go over and talk to her to see what she thinks?”

The day of his appointment with the additional therapist had started with Belgian waffles from scratch and French toast using the bread Bucky had made a couple of days before, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orange juice...and Starbucks twice (once first thing and once after breakfast on his way to the appointment).

**_< I love you.> _**The text from Steve, along with what Bucky had sometimes heard referred to as ‘a liquid hug’, helped him make it to the center without turning around and going home.

“Bucky, this is Theresa. She’s the clinical director here and is a licensed music therapist. I went over your history, briefly, and the...obstacles you’ve been facing.”

Bucky tried to pay attention to what the doc was saying but his eyes were pulled to a baby grand piano off to one side of the large-ish room.

“Do you play the piano, Bucky?” Her voice was kind and gentle and it settled the nervous energy that was making his right hand twitch.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so? I never did before…” He studied the piano as they walked over to it. “But how did you rate this? I thought...I mean I read that arts didn’t get funding so…”

“Well, a former patient can afford to be very generous when she wants to be. This was her gift after her time with us not long ago.” Theresa motioned for Bucky to have a seat on the piano bench. It wasn’t pristine by any means but the finish was still so glossy that Bucky could see light bouncing off the black paint.

He sat down and ghosted his right hand over the keys. A scene flashed before him. A red and black dress twirling on a stage above him. The orchestra playing perfectly all around him and his fingers never missing a note, even watching the dance. Bucky’s fingers began to fly across the keys, his body again on autopilot know the sequence of the notes and when to press the pedals as well as the tempo of the music. More images flashed...making sure the dancer saw him but making sure he didn’t stand out. Her knowing smile as he stepped between one of the violinists and her, threatening to cut more than the strings of his violin if he didn’t keep away from the talent.

“Where did you go just then?” Theresa asked when he finished playing. Bucky stretched his right arm all the way down through his fingers.

“A recital hall, no idea where. But there was a dancer I was...looking after.”

“You were her protection detail? I’ve treated people who’ve been in your field before.” She leaned against the piano. Bucky nodded. “So you were taught how to play as your cover. But you never knew before just now that you could play?”

“Well I wasn’t exactly taught but that’s about the gist of it.” He couldn’t help but look at his prosthetic hand and wonder how something that had shed so much blood and hurt so many could make beautiful music like that.

“Do you know the song?” He shook his head no. “It’s from Carmen, act 1 scene 5 to be precise. The commonly known name for it is Habanera. A beautiful piece on piano or with an orchestra. How did playing it make you feel?”

“While I was playing it? I didn’t feel anything. Now? I wonder how I can do something so beautiful after so many years of bloodshed. It doesn’t make sense. How can I deserve any of the good things I have when I’m such a monster.”

“I’m going to give you a list of music I’d like you to listen to before our next session and see how those make you feel. You can come by here any time and play but next time I’d like to see what kind of response these pieces provoke.” Theresa stepped away, leaving Bucky to let his hands dance over the keys. He wasn’t trying to play anything specific...just random notes that sounded nice.

“Hey Theresa...know where I can pick up a keyboard?”

Bucky got home while Steve was still visiting Sam at the VA, and by that Bucky meant sitting in on a group session that Sam recommended. He sat up the keyboard and flipped through the books of sheet music he’d borrowed from the center. The notes made no sense to him at first glance but, once he had his hands on the keyboard, memories started rushing back and he could muddle through reading the music.

He heard the door close but didn’t hear Steve walk any further into the room. He could only imagine what was going through Steve’s head. “So I had an interesting session.” Bucky called out, never missing or skipping a note.

“Is that the song from that vampire movie Wanda made us watch last movie night?”

“Same guy but no, this isn’t Clare de Lune. It’s Prelude number five, book two...Bruyeres.” He’d pulled a chair up next to the one he was sitting in behind the keyboard.

“Good session? I don’t see a Starbucks cup or smell anything cooking…”

“Like I said, interesting session. This is more for when I have shit to work through that coffee or cooking can’t fix. It’s also a kind of expression.” Bucky switched to a different piece that Steve didn’t recognize. “Dream of Love by Liszt if you’re wondering.”

Neither spoke, deciding to let the music wash over them. Steve moved closer and closer to Bucky as he played but he was careful not to bump into him and disturb his playing.

“So this is how you work through stuff. Like stuff you can’t talk to me about or…”

Bucky stopped playing and processed what he wanted to say. “It’s not that I can’t talk to you, Stevie. It’s that you’re part of what I have to process.” He glanced over to the other man. “I just...I don’t understand how you can still love me knowing all the terrible fucking things I’ve done. And before you say anything I know you say it wasn’t me or that I had no choice or whatever but that’s not...I remember so much, Steve. I remember so many deaths and some days, I look at my hands and all I can see is all the blood they’ve spilled. How can I touch someone as wonderful and just good as you with them?”

Steve sat silently and, for once, Bucky didn’t wonder what he was thinking. He just stayed in the present looking down at his hands until Steve’s hands were on his, placing them on the keyboard.

“Play something for me? Anything.”

The song Bucky played wasn’t anything from the sheet music book or even anything he’d remembered hearing ever. He was playing his feelings for Steve. The piece was complicated but beautiful and, by the time he was done, there were tears streaming down both their faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a pianist (nor do I play one on TV) and I'm not a therapist (even though I was almost a professional counselor) so there was a lot of muddling my way through this chapter.


	5. In A Hole In The Ground...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking to Steve got easier and Steve started going to art therapy to deal with his issues. Bucky even started teaching Steve to play the piano when Steve started trying to teach Bucky to draw. Needless to say neither went all that well.
> 
> Family movie night rolled around again and it was Clint’s turn to pick. Everybody groaned, given Clint’s predilection for crappy b-movies, but were pleasantly surpr

Talking to Steve got easier and Steve started going to art therapy to deal with his issues. Bucky even started teaching Steve to play the piano when Steve started trying to teach Bucky to draw. Needless to say neither went all that well.

Family movie night rolled around again and it was Clint’s turn to pick. Everybody groaned, given Clint’s predilection for crappy b-movies, but were pleasantly surprised when he picked The Hobbit.

“Bucky do you remember how nuts I was for the book when it came out? I saved up and bought a copy as soon as I could.”

“Ar' lle karne amin parma ta a' lle iire lle irve.” Everybody, once again, locked eyes on Bucky. “What did I say?”

“Was that...Elvish?” Wanda asked curiously, a grin lighting up her face.

“It was indeed,” Vision supplied, sitting down on the couch behind Wanda.

“Where...you know what? I don’t wanna know.” Steve waved a hand as if to wave away the question he almost asked.

“Lle're ikotane cute iire lle maa ve' tanya, Stevie…”

“Okay seriously if you’re gonna keep speaking in tongues, you’re gonna have to tell us what you’re saying.” Steve leaned forward and smiled but Bucky only shrugged.

“I have no idea what I was saying...well, I do kind of know the second time. But that first time? No clue.

“If I may?” Vision asked and the collective eyes of the room turned to him, waiting. “I believe what Mister Barnes said was ‘And you'd make me read it to you when you were sick,’ if I’m not mistaken.”

“I wouldn’t know if you were, pal.”

The movie started but Steve slid as close as he could to Bucky without crawling into his lap. Steve would ask, in hushed whispers, what certain lines were in Elvish and, without having to think, Bucky would recite them back to him, delighting in the shivers that broke out across Steve’s skin at the lilt and flow of the words.

“If you two don’t stop the lovey dovey shit, I’m gonna separate you.” Tony mock groused from across the room. Pepper being away at a conference in Tokyo had him in a mood.

“Okay you’re gonna have to narrow that down because there are four couples in this room.” Bruce shot back. “You, me, and Pietro are seriously outnumbered.”

“One Clint and Natasha are never lovey dovey in public. Two Wanda and Vision aren’t even sitting on the same surface. Three Thor and Jane are actually WATCHING the movie. So process of elimination leaves our octogenarian super soldiers. Do I need to douse you with water...no wait that wouldn’t help.” Tony threw a pillow at them. “There are ladies present you two so knock it off!”

“Auta miqula orqu.”

“I don’t know what you just told him to do to an Orc but I approve.” Bruce muttered, followed by a muffled thud.

“Bucky told him to kiss an orc.” Jane murmured from where she was cuddled up with Thor.

“I didn’t know this fictional language was one of the ones you spoke.” Thor smiled proudly but Jane’s face was guarded.

“Yeah I don’t wanna talk about it.” The sad note to her voice ended the discussion and they finished the movie in peace.

There was a pull at the edge of Bucky’s mind of something of special interest about a physicist who could speak Elvish. He spent hours looking online and even enlisted Vision and FRIDAY but to no avail. He wanted to ask Jane but it was pretty obvious she was avoiding not only the topic but him as well when she didn’t show up for their next family night.

Steve tried to take Bucky’s mind off of it by asking him, at random intervals, to describe what he was doing but in Elvish. Sometimes it was while he was cooking and sometimes it was just talking while dancing or playing his keyboard. Then there were times when Steve would wake up from a nightmare and Bucky would just whisper whatever came into his head to Steve to lull him back to sleep. He even got a copy of The Hobbit to read to Steve in Elvish just because it made them both happy.

Bucky had almost forgotten about trying to figure out the mystery of his Elvish knowledge when Darcy showed up and drug him out for a walk.

“Okay so Jane has been in a mood since you guys watched The Hobbit, without me I might add, and Wanda said that you started speaking Elvish so here’s the deal. But if you breathe a word of this to Jane? I will make you suffer I promise.” Darcy stated matter of factly and Bucky didn’t doubt her in the slightest.

“What did I do?” Because it was always something he’d done.

“I don’t know that it was you for definite so stop that. But Jane had this professor as an undergrad who basically was like a physics god. Kinda like Erik is now but this woman was just...everything Jane wanted to be. They bonded over Tolkien, because Jane is such a nerd like that, and the professor taught Jane Elvish when she complained that people were trying to cheat off of her in class.” Bucky nodded but shoved his hands in his pockets to hide how much they were starting to shake. “Well, professor had to go speak at a conference on whatever I’m not clear on that but she never made it. She was found dead in her hotel room and it was ruled an accident.”

“It wasn’t an accident. She was reading reading Lord of The Rings in the bath and…” Bucky’s voice was quiet and filled with hatred.

“I didn’t hear that just like you didn’t hear anything for the whole time we’ve been walking.” Darcy gave him a pointed look and they continued their walk, only talking every now and then about superficial things. And Darcy wanting recommendations for new Starbucks drinks.

As soon as he got home, Bucky set about a new search. It cost a pretty penny but it was worth every cent as soon as they were delivered and Bucky ran his fingers over the hardbacks.

“New project, collecting first editions?”

“Y' seere offering, ten' y' life tyele too arinya,” he whispered, picking up a pen to copy the translations down. He glanced back at Steve. "A peace offering, for a life ended too early,” he translated. He’d gotten good at figuring out what he was saying when he slipped into Elvish.

While he wrote, Steve read over his shoulder. “What does it say?”

“Amin hiraetha ten' mani amin ume naa unendien. My sorrow for what I did is unending. N'uma amends ten' mani amin ume naa deanam. No amends for what I did are possible. Ilya amin can uma naa try coi- yassen amin ar' estela ten' redemption. All I can do is try to live with myself and hope for redemption. Redemption is written in script because it doesn’t really translate.” He was trying to keep his voice even and hold the sadness at bay but his control was slipping.

“Amin mela lle.” Steve pressed a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head and hugged him.

Jane was back at the next movie night after he’d messengered the books to her apartment. She kept her distance from Bucky until he was alone and everyone else was occupied.

“N'uma amends naa ante nan' lle gifts nae creose.” There was a catch in her voice and Bucky couldn’t look at her face. “Thank you for the books. I loved them.”

“I’m glad. And thank you for not hating me. I can’t...I mean I just…”

She silenced him with a hand on his left arm. “That wasn’t you and it’s not who you are now. That’s the important thing.”

They made plans to get together and talk about the Tolkien movies versus the books and just to get to know each other. Bucky mentioned his love of cooking and invited Jane and Thor over for dinner despite Jane’s warnings about how much food her Asgardian could put away.

The movie of the night was Lord of the Rings and they kept up a steady stream of quiet commentary conspiratorily in Elvish, making Vision laugh a couple of times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the deal. I don't speak Elvish. I don't know anybody who speaks Elvish. I actually used an [Elvish translator](https://lingojam.com/TheTelQuessirOnlineTranslator). Also, I have the Elvish translations for the phrases I didn't translate in the chapter.
> 
> Lle're ikotane cute iire lle maa ve' tanya, stevie  
> You’re so cute when you look at me like that, Stevie.
> 
> Amin mela lle  
> I love you
> 
> N'uma amends naa ante nan' lle gifts nae creose  
> No amends were needed but your gifts were welcomed.
> 
> However, if I got something wrong in Elvish, blame the translator page!


	6. Things Get Medieval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were picnicking in McCarren Park one day, Steve drawing random things that caught his attention and Bucky enjoying watching Steve draw. A group of people showed up and started setting up chairs and dropping big equipment bags not far away from them. The group seemed friendly and not terribly loud but it was the gear that they were taking out of their bags that drew Steve’s attention.
> 
> “What on Earth??” Steve focused all his attention on the various pieces of padding and hockey equipment being freed from the bags. “Is that a sword?!”

Things settled down for a while. No new skills popped out and Bucky took comfort in the skills he had remembered. Sometimes, he was baking and cooking enough to feed a small country. Other times, he would practically live at their Starbucks. He and Steve still danced or sometimes he played music when either of them had a bad night.

They were picnicking in McCarren Park one day, Steve drawing random things that caught his attention and Bucky enjoying watching Steve draw. A group of people showed up and started setting up chairs and dropping big equipment bags not far away from them. The group seemed friendly and not terribly loud but it was the gear that they were taking out of their bags that drew Steve’s attention.

“What on Earth??” Steve focused all his attention on the various pieces of padding and hockey equipment being freed from the bags. “Is that a sword?!”

Bucky looked up and over to where Steve was staring. “Technically yes but it’s called an epee. Used in fencing.” 

“Okay that I understand but the hell are those big baseball bat looking things? I mean what are these people into?” He tried to keep his voice down but there was a note of query and worry about the goings on.

“They’re rattan swords. If I’m not mistaken, those are fighters either with the Society for Creative Anachronism or Adrian Empire. Probably the SCA given the armor and weapons. Adrian Empire uses semi-live steel.” Bucky turned his attention back to the last cupcake from their picnic. “And the answer to the question on the tip of your tongue is yes...this is one of Those Things.” They’d started referring to the random skills and memories that had started just cropping up as Those Things.

“Okay this I gotta know more about. Look at the design on that shield! It’s kind of like a medieval version of my shield!” Steve was up and bouncing over to the group of fighters before Bucky could try to offer an explanation.

“Oh my God are you Captain America?” The woman holding the shield Steve had been so giddy to see asked.

“Just Steve is fine. I love your shield! It looks suspiciously familiar…” Steve pointed at the circular shield with red and blue sections emanating from a white star in the middle.

“I guess it would considering your shield was the inspiration. I didn’t know you were in the SCA?”

“We’re not...well, I’m not. I was just about to hear all about it but I had to come see your shield up close…” Steve’s voice trailed off as he inspected the way the shield was painted.

“That’s a Viking shield, right? You’re persona’s a Viking?” Bucky asked, looking around at her gear on the ground.

“That’s right. You in the SCA?”

“No but I know a little something about it. Do you fight sword and board or two stick?” Bucky nodded at the two swords in her gear.

“Both, actually, but today I’m teaching sword and board.”

“Sword and board?” Steve looked clueless.

“She fights with a shield and sword and she fights with just two swords. May I?” Bucky motioned at one of the swords, waiting until the lady nodded her permission to pick it up. He stepped back so that he was out of danger of hitting either of them and swung the sword in broad arcs and snapping it as if he was trying to do a quick hit to his invisible opponent’s neck.

“Nice flat snap but try doing this…” The female fighter picked up her other sword and brought elbow close to her body before snapping the sword around. 

“Yeah I gotcha. Keep my elbow in to decrease the open space for the opponent to attack. Good idea.” 

Steve watched on in sheer fascination as the fighter and Bucky traded tips and tricks for how to attack while guarding yourself from a retaliatory attack. Just like with all the other Things, Bucky moved through the actions with ease but there was a deliberateness about his movements. Like he was pulling on his more traditional knowledge of defense and offense and not just a staged form.

“You’re pretty good. Wanna stick around and see if our loaner armor fits you so we can trade some real hits?”

Bucky paled slightly. “Nah but thanks for the offer. I mean we’ll stick around but I’m not one for armor anymore.”

They said their goodbyes and went back to where they were picnicking earlier. Steve watched intently as the fighters armored up and got ready to practice. Bucky was sifting through memories to see what he could associate with this.

“So they’re just supposed to, what, bludgeon each other until there’s only one fighter standing?” Steve never took his eyes off the fighters.

“No there’s a marshal, the guy with the yellow and black striped pole, who keeps an eye on the fight. Every hit that would’ve wounded you in traditional plate armor is called a good hit. If you land a good hit on your opponent’s leg then they have to fight from their knees. Likewise, if you hit their arm and it’s a good hit, they lose the use of that arm. If your shield arm is the one you lose, you can’t use your shield. If the arm you lose is your sword arm, the only way you can keep fighting is if you’re ambidextrous. However, if you land a hit on your opponent’s head and they call a good hit, that’s tantamount to killing your opponent. In a tournament, you fight different fighters until you ‘die’ a certain number of times, usually two or three. In a battle, there’s usually a resurrection point where you go, touch something like a flag, and you’re back in the battle.”

“Is it the same thing with the fencing?”

Bucky made a non-committal shrug. “Don’t know that much about the fencers. I do know there’s no slicing motions allowed like you see in movies with sword duels. Atleast not from what I remember.” Bucky paid close attention to the female fighter they’d talked to earlier.

“And what do you remember?” 

The pop and smack of rattan on shields echoed around them. “There was an ex-Army guy who rarely left his terrifyingly secure house. But he did to go to this medieval re-enactment called Pennsic. People camp at this huge campground, basically, in Pennsylvania for two weeks every July or August. There was no way to get to him unless it was at this event so I learned everything, basically, about the SCA and renaissance and medieval re-enacting. There’s more than just fighting...there’s arts and sciences, including drawing and stuff, singing and people selling things. There are singers and brewers and all sorts of stuff but this one guy was pretty tight with fighters so that’s what I used to get close to him until…” Bucky shrugged as if to say, ‘you know’. 

They sat in silence, watching the different fighting pairs go at each other. There were laughs and groans as people let loose and enjoyed the friendly rivalry. There were people sitting on the outskirts of the fighting who were drawing on sketchpads and others were working on weaving strings into a multi-colored cording. Steve took to trying to capture the the different people, only trying to sketch the fighters in between practice bouts. Bucky watched everybody, from the fighters talking to the marshal to the fencers checking their blades to make sure they were blunted with their fabric doublets tough enough to resist a hole accidentally getting punched through them. The female fighter from earlier looked their way and smiled. When that happened, several people nervously approached them and asked for Steve’s autograph. One man, however, stood to one side, obviously not wanting to talk to Steve.

“You’re Bucky Barnes, right?” Bucky braced himself for recriminations and insults to be thrown at him as he nodded yes. “I think you’re awesome. I was a heavy fighter until about eighteen months ago. Had an accident that caused brain damage and cost me an arm so now I just do thrown weapons. But you’re an inspiration to me because you don’t let your prosthetic stop you from doing things. Thank you for that.” The guy held out his right hand, which Bucky could see was his prosthetic. Bucky shook his hand and even managed to muster up a smile.

The practice wound down with people packing up randomly and leaving. The female fighter they’d spoken to earlier came over and knelt down in front of Bucky.

“You should come back by next practice. We’re here every Tuesday and we’re having a demo here soon. Who knows, you might find your next hobby.” She winked at them before getting up and leaving.

Needless to say that going to McCarren Park every Tuesday night became a ritual with the two of them. Eventually Steve started an impromptu sketching class for the spectators and Bucky gave advice from time to time. When it had been a bad week or a rough Monday night, there were sometimes cookies or cupcakes enough for everybody at the practice to have several along with several thermoses full of Starbucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the deal. This chapter was a walk in the park for me because I'm in the Society for Creative Anachronism and I just wanted to have Bucky know SCA style fighting and stuff. Like was said in the chapter, there's more to the SCA than fighting. Also, there is a SCA group in Brooklyn that has a Tuesday practice in McCarren Park. I made sure. *wink*


	7. The Deal I'm Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks became months and no other...abilities...made themselves known.

Weeks became months and no other...abilities...made themselves known. Bucky kept going to both therapists alternately. Steve started art therapy at the center, too, after seeing how much playing music helped Bucky. The baristas at Starbucks all learned who they were and even let newbies know who they were. They never tried to suggest drinks knowing Bucky could always be counted on to come up with creative orders all on his own. Sometimes, their small Starbucks was home to unofficial Avengers get togethers as Bucky and Jane would drag their respective partners along for a day of talking Tolkien. Darcy stopped by sometimes for the nifty drinks and to pass along recipes she’d found online but was too scared to try for herself. There were nights of practically endless food, music, and dancing at The Tower. 

Steve started going back on missions with the other Avengers but Bucky decided that he’d had enough violence in his previous life. There were days when Steve was away where Bucky couldn’t, and didn’t even try to sleep. Pepper bought a top of the line coffee and espresso machine that she brought over when the team was called to Wakanda to help deal with a threat. That went well with the juicer and kettle Steve bought him for the anniversary of their reunion. One particular mission, Wanda opted to stay behind so she, Darcy, and Sam, who was still healing from a scuffle up in Harlem, under the guise of wanting more of Bucky’s cooking, stayed with him until Steve came home, banged up but relatively whole and healthy.

Natasha, one day when she came in during Bucky playing the Carmen piece from his first session, stopped short and had to sit down quickly before she fell down.

“I know that piece of music…” There was confusion and an edge of fear in her voice.

“Carmen. You danced to it in Spain in the nineties. I was there undercover as a piano player to be your protection.” He never turned around, wanting to finish the piece. Neither of them spoke until he was done. “You didn’t remember?”

Natasha shook her head no. “I always thought the ballerina thing was more of the Red Room’s brainwashing. I mean I know some of the steps but I figured it was just part of a cover.”

“You were the best. Their own deadly prima ballerina.”

“I remember...I wanted to run but you told me they would do very bad things to you if I did. So I stayed.” She leaned back into the couch, curling her legs under her. Bucky made a strong Russian tea and they talked of what they both remembered, filling in the gaps for each other.

Their circle of friends expanded to include the fighters from the park. Shannon, the female fighter, was also a dance teacher who ran a ballroom dance party at the dance studio she worked at. The dance took place once a month and Steve and Bucky became regular figures, along with Clint and Natasha, who was determined to teach Clint to dance properly, Sam and Kelly, who were now officially an item. Even Tony and Pepper made appearances because, in Pepper’s words, use them as an excuse to socialize Tony. 

One night, after one of the dances, with their friends...their family...spilling out of their brownstone into the back garden, Bucky looked around and realized something he’d never acknowledged before. He was surrounded by love and trust despite his past.

And he had some amazing new coping mechanisms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this has been a ride. Thank you everyone who's read and left kudos and comments. Y'all make me happy that I decided to finish and post this. And yeah the final chapter was shorter than the others but it just felt like a natural ending point.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://bustybarnes.tumblr.com) and talk to me about, well, anything (because my blog is just a bit of everything).


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